


Gilded Glass

by LePetitMonstre



Series: Kink/Gore October 2018 [8]
Category: Flight Rising
Genre: F/M, Goretober, Kinktober
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-08-14 07:05:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16487999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LePetitMonstre/pseuds/LePetitMonstre
Summary: Gore: Glass | Kink: PregnancyOrigin of the crystal/facet genes.





	Gilded Glass

**Author's Note:**

> This writing is intended only for mature audiences. Please mind the tags.
> 
> Reader Discretion Is Advised

She hadn't anticipated life as an effigy to be so painful. 

When the magic was first put upon her, the coating of golden glass was fragile and thin. Prone to shallow spider-web cracks along her joints. Skilled glass workers and mechanics found ways to maintain her mobility by pouring alchemist epoxy into each crevice. Turning her into a living mosaic. In little time all the critical points of movement were usable, yet rather stiff, and she could do as she pleased. Each new splinter hurt, but it was better to identify the joints now before the deeper layers of her skin were permeated. 

The gift of flight was lost to her, but she wasn't born of Wind. The sky didn't call to her as it did so many others. If it had, she would never have agreed to this. If she was born of The Windsinger, no mystic would have singled out a shard of The Lightweaver's ancient soul within her. 

Every morning she woke to five sets of claws upon her, looking to polish and dress and decorate before she stood on her pedestal. Life became made up of stiff new routines to match her brittle exterior. 

Hundreds of dragons traveled through her land each day on their way to the forest that nestled the border between The Sunbeam Ruins and The Tangled Wood. Each little group offering small shares of their catch to her clan as tithe. It was a good business that kept her ancient lair fed. 

Yet she was lonely. Every dragon from hatching to elder cast down their eyes in her presence. And so, without consult of the advisors that profited from the respect due to her, she found a drake eager to please her. They made love, or fucked, however she preferred it. His claws digging deep scores across her glass flank as he held her beneath him. For a moment of feeling something organic within her again, she didn't care the price. 

Until the glass of her abdomen began to ache. A favorite attendant only laughed when she complained. 

"You're growing fat, my lady! Perhaps you shall need to walk about for exercise." 

Her secret was exposed before she understood it herself. A tundra with beads braided into his summer cut fur offered her gifts 'for the pending hatchlings'. She wished she had worn heavier perfumes that day. 

In the days following her advisors fussed over the situation. Combing old texts looking to find some angle that would make this clutch divine, but the gods never made nests. 

Instead, they resigned stand by and watch the narrative grow. Hatchlings were always blessed and mothers are naturally entrusted with life. Surely this would be no different. 

She kept careful watch over the minuscule cracks forming on the underside of her skin and the distance between her pre-melded fissures. The pull of firm skin away from itself at first began to sting like a small cut. 

When it finally breaks, her shriek echoes thru the alcazar cavern of the lair. Droplets of blood ooze from the deep crack running along the perfect center of her underside abdomen. 

Members of her clan run to her aide with minds racing but uncertain to what they would find. 

In her nest, their make-shift goddess lays on her flank. Breath shallow as her rib cage flutters, lungs unable to fill themselves in her panic. Red trickling in fat streams down her gravid belly and staining the bedding. 

Gentle talons of the little nocturne attempt to comfort her by caressing her head as healers inspect the wound. But even the softest touch is met with an ominous snapping implying further damage. Bandages were wrapped around her stomach to stop infection from setting in. But when it was removed, chunks of glittering, opaque skin deattached with it. 

Soon her life drained away with the lost blood, and three glittering eggs were salvaged from her corpse. All three hatched days later as orphans of crystal and facet splendor.

**Author's Note:**

> Please consider leaving a comment and/or kudos. It makes an author's life brighter to hear from readers. Let me know if you spot any mistakes. Constructive criticism is always welcome. [The comment screening is just for antis.]


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